


Secret Santa Is No Joke

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Auror Family, M/M, Secret Santa, Wildly out of season Christmas Fic, prank gone wrong, sad Percival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 09:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: Each year the fireplace in the bullpen gets adorned with a series of stockings and each year a game of Secret Santa is had. Too bad someone manages to spoil it.





	Secret Santa Is No Joke

The whole department was tastefully decorated. There were muted paper chains adorning the tops of windows, a few spun glass baubles and ornaments hung from branches of holly and fir on the walls. Perhaps the biggest change though was to the bullpen’s fireplace. It was already large to accommodate teams flooing in and out but it had been spelled a little wider still to fit pieces of twine one from each side that met in the middle. On the twines hung stockings, each with the name of a member of the department carefully embroidered on it. They were hand decorated, no magic could make the names look so precise yet homely. Each year the stockings came out overnight just in time for the annual game of Secret Santa. And each year the stockings were lovingly repaired or replaced and new team members were present in the line-up while those who had left were never put up.

“Don’t touch them,” Percival’s voice was firm as he reprimanded Junior Auror Banks who had been reaching out to feel up her own stocking which bulged with the promise of a gift already. Most of the stockings were already filled but the few that were still empty had a couple more days before the great gift exchange. Nobody knew how it started really. For as long as most people worked there each year the stockings went up and each person was assigned someone else in the department to get a small gift for. Rumours had it that the beginnings happened around the time Percival started out as a junior but nobody put much faith in that.

“I was just trying to get a clue,” Banks whined but Percival shook his head firmly.

“You were here last year too, you know the rules. Everyone gets a surprise on the last Friday afternoon.”

“You’re no fun,” Banks bitterly shot back and went to sit by her desk.

                Two days later all the stockings were filled, some were bulging while others were pulled low with weight. Percival’s was one that dangled low but seemed to have more than one item in it. There was a childish glee in his eyes that was forcefully reigned in as everyone gathered around the lit fireplace, a glass of hot chocolate in hand. One by one the stockings were floated to the correct person and everybody watched with fondness as they pulled their gift out. Goldstein clutched at her new badge holder with delight, Banks was wrapped in her new scarf, O’Brien twiddled his new pen and Fontaine proudly clutched at his fluffy teddy bear. Next in line was Percival and he floated his stocking into his hand. One hand went in and pulled out the top item. It was a lump of coal. He let out an awkward little laugh. A few people joined in.

“Guess I haven’t been a good boss this year,” he tried to make light of it but nobody could miss the way he swallowed. His hand went in the stocking again. This time he pulled out a book. A dictionary to be more precise. There was a note sticking out from one of the pages which he opened it.

“Thought you might need a dictionary because you certainly don’t know the meaning of fun,” Percival read the note out loud but by the end his voice had turned quiet. The page the dictionary had opened up on was indeed at the letter F and the definition of “fun” had been violently circled.

“Well, thank you for that. I’ll definitely make good use of this in the coming year. Carefully he placed his dictionary and lump of coal under his chair and floated the next stocking to the waiting person. While his eyes weren’t brimming with tears they definitely looked a little wetter. Somehow the rest of the gift giving was quieter, people purred in delight and said heartfelt thanks but each time they unwrapped something they wanted or needed they guiltily glanced at Percival. Once the last stocking had been emptied there was a moment of silence. Usually the afternoon was spent as a quiet party where they had finger foods, could chat and take it easy. Percival gathered his things from under his chair and cleared his throat.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do,” he said and without waiting for a reply he walked with measured steps into his office. The door shut behind him with a certain finality.

“Whose dumb idea was that?” Fontaine immediately turned to the group.

“Come on, it was just a silly joke,” Banks said. She found herself on the receiving end of a variety of stares and glares.

“You?!” Fontaine seethed but Delego put a hand on his shoulder to silence him.

“We expected better from you. You were here last you. You know this isn’t a time for joke presents.”

Banks shrugged petulantly.

“He’s a grown man, he should be able to take a joke.”

“Yes he is and he can. But this really isn’t the time or place. Couldn’t you see how much it hurt him?”

Murmurs of agreement sounded from around the group. Percival chose that moment to emerge from his office. He looked no different to usual, spoke no different but there was still a monumental change.

“You can go home early if you’d like. Don’t feel pressured in staying around,” he said and walked away with some files in his hand. Nobody dared move or speak until he was out of sight again.

“You ruined his only afternoon off, well done,” O’Brien spat with a glare at Banks. She looked chastised but not sorry.

                There was no quick fix to the situation. Percival worked through the holidays with the team that had volunteered to be on duty that year. It was no different to any previous year, Percival still brought in cookies Newt had made, he had time and kind words for everyone who approached him. But gone were the little stories about evenings with a mooncalf on his feet, there were no shared moments where he’s share a joke he’d heard or the latest gossip from the magizoology community. It was strange how it was possible to miss someone even though they were still there and on the surface still being just as polite and caring as ever.

Nothing they did seemed to work. Asking after Newt and his creatures got a rueful smile and a “they’re fine, thank you for asking” while enquiring about new gossip was met with an “I’ll tell you another time, I really have to get back to work.” All in all it wasn’t a good sign. The aurors were at a loss, nobody knew what to do and they were desperate.

Their saviour came in the shape of Newt. Again. He waltzed through the department with Percival’s scarf in hand and a little laugh about an occamy taking fancy to it under the false impression of it being a very submissive male. He left Percival’s office and sighed when the door closed.

“Who was it?” he asked with such a weary sadness that Timpson could barely hold back his own downturn of mouth.

“Banks,” O’Brien replied and the way he said the name it was obvious what he thought of her.

“Do we know why?”

“Other than she’s a dick? Not a clue.”

“She was here last year too, wasn’t she?” Newt approached the desk and sat on it next to O’Brien. The other aurors gathered around them. They all chipped in, tried to offer their thoughts and shame at not stopping her. Eventually Newt reached into his pocket.

“I have these,” he pulled something out, “two tickets to the ballet. I was going to give them to him at Christmas but I can find something else. Just put this right?”

                They had a few days to sort things out. The day before Christmas a single stocking appeared by the fireplace at lunchtime. It looked weighed down by something. Across the top of it unpractised hands had crudely sewn the name “Percival”. When Percival emerged from his office after lunch nobody dared look at him outright. Furtive glances were cast his way though. His step faltered when his eyes landed on the lone stocking but rather than approach it or ask anything he continued away with hurried steps.

“Boss,” Delego called after him. Percival stopped and turned. His eyes deliberately skirted away from the fireplace. Each of the aurors grabbed a chair and pulled it to the low burning fire. They formed a semicircle around it, the chair at the peak of it remained empty. O’Brien patted the chair.

“Got a moment for us?”

Haltingly Percival approached the chairs. There was palpable apprehension oozing from him. A mug of hot chocolate was pressed into his hands and the stocking was floated closer until he reached out with tentative hands. Nobody mentioned the light shake there was in it.

“Go on boss,” Delego encouraged him. A hand reached into the stocking. It pulled out a book. On first glance it was another dictionary and Percival’s face fell. The aurors held their breath and waited for him to read the title.

“The Auror’s Alphabet,” Percival read out loud. He flipped through the book. The pages had been replaced, definitions were accompanied by pictures from the department. Whether it was Delego pulling stupid faces at the camera or Slade frowning over her report they were all accompanied by little stories, memories and anecdotes. And they all involved Percival in some way. Either as the hero who sailed in to save the day or the quiet pillar of support or even a friend who was there for whatever memory. When Percival got to the letter “F” there was just a picture of him on one side and on the other were the two tickets. His fingers slid over the tickets and he glanced up at the aurors around him with wet eyes.

“Really?” he asked in disbelief.

“Merry Christmas boss,” Delego replied and pulled him in for a hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts galore over on tumblr - @ladyoftheshrimp


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